


Kisses, Trust and Sentinel Smiles

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Fluff and Mush, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Blair wakes up in Jim's bed.





	Kisses, Trust and Sentinel Smiles

I wake to a usual Cascade morning: dull, dreary and drizzly. Lazily, feeling comfortable and warm and loved, I sigh contentedly and glance up at the skylight over Jim's bed, watching the raindrops leave trails over the Plexiglas as they slip to the edges. Suddenly, my heart stops. Over Jim's bed? Over - Jim's - bed! My heart lurches, then starts to race. Over Jim's bed! Over- Oh, God! Slowly, very slowly, I turn my head just enough and that's when I realize why I'm warm and comfy. Because Jim is- I gulp noisily, forcing myself not to shake, not to launch myself from the bed in abject terror. Again, I look to my left and see Jim's face on my pillow. Well, technically, it's his pillow, because I'm in... Jim's bed. And he's snuggled against me, not heavily, but very lightly. I think I'm going to be sick. Not that I don't love this, but-

Frozen in terror, afraid that he'll wake and demand an explanation as to why -- exactly why -- I'm in his bed and, shit, naked. I carefully, so carefully you'd think I was afraid of waking him, slide toward the edge. That's when he snuffles in his sleep, gives a small snore, and his hand clamps onto my wrist. I'm a dead man. I lay very still until he drops back into a deep sleep. His breathing is even and slow, but still I wait until I'm sure.

I very, very (very!) carefully move my wrist out from under his loose grasp. Again, I slip toward the edge of the bed. In tiny increments, I finally achieve success. I lower my legs to the floor and then when my feet touch the cold wood, I make myself rise just as cautiously as I can. Holding my breath, I don't glance down at my body because I don't want to see that I'm naked. I don't need to see the evidence. The cold air on my body tells me I'm not only in my birthday suit, but that I'm in a huge, make that gargantuan amount of trouble.

I softly tiptoe toward the stairs; then tiptoe down them on light feet, a riser at a time, skirting the squeaky one, third from the bottom. With my ears tuned into Jim to be sure he doesn't wake, I achieve success when I make it to the bathroom and just as carefully close the door. Heaving out a shaky breath, I lean against the back of the door and actually tremble. When my stomach lurches with fear, I run a hand over my belly. That's when I know I'm definitely a dead man.

Because that's when I feel it. Dried semen. Lots of it. Stuck to my chest, my balls, my legs. God, even in my hair! All of my hair, if you get my drift. My legs almost buckle as I lurch over to the toilet. Dropping onto the seat, I grimace when a new item catches my attention. A twinge of soreness. Right - back - there. Oh, God. Now I'm definitely going to be sick. My stomach tightens and my brain sizzles. I've been fucked, apparently. The soreness isn't bad; nothing a nice, hot shower won't fix. But it's not the soreness that has me panicked. It's the cause of it. Did Jim have his evil way with me? I snort at my ridiculous thought and carefully rise, turning on the faucets before adjusting the shower control. I wave a hand under the spray until it heats up nicely; then I step under the water, closing the shower door.

With a sigh, I stand under the hard fingers of water that pound against me while I calm my runaway thoughts. Okay, let's approach this logically. I am a cadet after all. I've worked with a cop for three plus years. I'm in the police academy. I can conduct this investigation.

What happened...?

I remember coming home from class. I purse my lips. Classes are now at the Cascade Police Academy instead of Rainier University. That still takes some getting used to, but so far, things have been (sort of) okay. But that's another discussion for another time. Right now, I need to know why I've had sex with my partner, my best friend, my former research subject, and the man I love more than life itself. The man who, apparently, had designs on my body and I didn't realize that he even liked me! Damn that Ellison stoicism. Some friggin' detective I'm going to be.

Shaking my head in exasperation at my own lack of perception, I take the bar of soap, rub it between my hands and scrub away the evidence of sex. My hands move to clean the rest of my body, which I'm sure reeks of sweat and (yeah, I know) more sex.

Back to last night. I came home to a nice dinner. Wine and roasted chicken and fresh salad and even fresher vegetables sautéed with butter, courtesy of my partner, who had the day off for a change. The meal was wonderful, cooked perfectly. After eating, I remember sitting on the sofa, sharing the last dredges of the bottle of wine with Jim. Then...

Then I remember Jim taking my empty glass from my hand and smiling at me. I know I wasn't drunk. I know he wasn't either. We shared one bottle of wine, not enough to make somebody like Jim, in control and anal, do what he -- what we did -- without crystal clear knowledge. I clearly remember that he stood up and waited in front of me and smiled. That smile was a killer, all right. Sweet, and sincere, and loving. I remember being stunned. It was gorgeous and all for me. Then he said a single word and I was immediately lost.

"Blair."

He said it with such love and longing, and invitation. Trust me on this, I remember, because I know my eyes widened and my heart thumped wildly. I also remember looking up in utter amazement and shock. My throat dried up and I think I tried to talk, but Jim's finger touched my lips, silencing me (for a change). Then he smiled again, encouraging me to stand.

I remember lurching clumsily to my feet. He chuckled and clamped strong hands around my waist, keeping me from taking a header on shaky legs. When I was stable, he took my hand in his and led me up the stairs. I didn't try to stop him. I didn't ask any questions. I went willingly. Hell, I followed gladly. I know I did. Well, fuck. But not right now, that comes in a bit. So...

I rinse under the hot spray and fumble for the shampoo bottle. Squirting a glob in my palm, I rub my hands together and wash my hair. It doesn't take long now that it's been cut, something I said I wouldn't do, but something I really had to do to prove that I'd changed. That I'd matured. That I deserved to be Jim's partner. Yeah, I know, stupid, but it meant something to me. It was a transition, and I needed that. A line drawn in the sand between my old life and my new one, but a new life that I had gladly chosen. And Jim knew it.

Guess he decided to draw a line in the sand too. His line was crossing from friend to lover. And we crossed it together. I know we did! God help me, but please let it be together! I can't afford to be wrong about that.

Anyway, back to last night. He guided me up the stairs and I was still pretty speechless, because he smiled (a lot!) and undid my shirt, one button at a time, slowly. There was no hurrying, no frantic ripping of clothes, just a careful undressing. Shoes, socks, shirts, pants and underwear. Each item of clothing was folded and placed on the bedside chair in a neat pile, all the while Jim had this particular smile on his face while I trembled with shock and desire. Oh, yeah, desire. Definitely.

I wish I could describe his smile. Words fail me, for a change. I felt amazingly special. Cherished. Wanted. Attractive. Loved.

I really remember the need on Jim's face. He stepped back and undressed himself just as slowly, giving me plenty of time to enjoy the view. By the time he was naked, I was hard and somewhat embarrassed at my eagerness. He saw my blush and cupped a large hand under my chin. He tilted my head up, shaking his head with amused exasperation. I could read his expression for a change. He was tickled that he had me speechless and embarrassed (and hard!). That's when he lightly brushed his lips over mine. And that's when I moaned. I remember that first moan clearly, because he smiled yet again and kissed me yet again. My hands finally moved; I tentatively placed them on his hips. He must have taken that for a sign, because he put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me once more.

Jim's lips... I can't even begin to describe Jim's lips. They're warm, and soft, and tender, and capable of arousing such feelings in me. With a groan of remembrance, I rinse out the shampoo and move out from under the spray. Uncapping the conditioner, I take a small amount and work it into my hair. I rub, spreading the glop as evenly as possible. Now that my hair's short, the curls spring up like a poodle's, which sometimes drives me nuts. I grin when I think about my hair, because apparently, Jim likes my hair, or lack hereof. I know I have a huge hickey on the back of my neck because I distinctly remember Jim telling me how damned sexy that part of my body -- my nape -- is, now that he has clear access to it. I remember rolling my eyes and I remember those lips latching on. You know, I don't remember much of anything else after that for a long while.

Rinsing out the conditioner, I have a flash. That's it! It's those lips! That's what sent me into some damned Guide zone. It was Jim's lips! Maybe Sentinels can control their Guides with their lips. Hell, why not? It worked on me! It takes a lot of effort to remember what happened next. I close my eyes and I can still feel his hands on my shoulders. He kissed me over and over. Not deeply or wetly (darn it!) but almost chastely, like he was afraid I'd run screaming if he tongue-fucked me right then and there. But it didn't matter to me that his kisses were sweet. Those fucking lips were doing me in. regardless.

Funny, I remember him kissing me for a long time, but I don't remember how I ended up lying down on my back with him stretched out over me; with those long legs nestled between my outspread ones, resting on his knees; with his hips pressed against mine; with his erection aligned with mine; with his elbows planted on either side of my head; and with those lips pressed against mine. I remember opening my mouth and pushing up with my hips. I can still hear his gentle laugh before he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I remember floating and flying and heat and friction and coming. Oh, yeah, I remember coming. I definitely remember coming, with those lips sucking my ear lobe before pressing warm, light touches to my eyelids, the end of my nose, my chin; on any skin he could lick or suck or kiss.

How did I end up on my stomach with my legs spread and my hips resting on ten pillows? How was I not embarrassed that my ass was exposed and that I was sobbing and begging. I remember, much to my dismay, that I begged (demanded!) to be fucked. Oh, God.

I crank off the water and lean my forehead against the warm tiles. What have I done? Jim will kill me. He must have been -- zoned or stoned or something I don't understand that affected his senses to have done what he did. There is no way he wants me. Not that way, and not for a lifetime. A lifetime. That's the only way I could have done what I did. I know. It sounds stupid, but hey, it's my life and that's what I want. I want a lifetime, a commitment, a partner, not a fast fuck. (Although it was good, from what I remember.)

I'm suddenly shaking again. He didn't know. He doesn't know. He won't know. I tell myself that adamantly. I swear to myself that I won't say a word; that he'll never know that he was my first. That I am- was a fucking virgin! God, even saying it to myself makes me want to run and hide. It's just so embarrassing! A thirty-year old man a virgin!

Before you laugh yourself silly, what you're thinking isn't quite what I'm trying to tell you. Yeah, I have had sex, just not intercourse. I happen to like oral sex. I made sure that my many girlfriends liked oral sex. I discovered early on that a lot of women enjoy oral sex more than actual intercourse. They like a good orgasm as much as the next guy or gal, and so do I. I love having my dick sucked. It's better than intercourse, I told myself. Nobody gets pregnant, and with proper precautions, nobody gets STDs. I'm a cautious guy. I made the decision years ago that I'd "save myself" for a permanent relationship; for the ridiculous notion that it was something that I'd willingly give to the love of my life. Messing around is cool; intercourse isn't, for me that is. And now I've gone and fucked that up but good. I had intercourse with my partner.

Jim will kill me.

Drying off, I have another thought. This one is a real doozy. And this one does make my stomach twist into a knot. I barely have time to think about the fact that Jim's had sex- No! Jim and I made love, definitely love, but Jim doesn't... I can't say it. I can barely think it, but I have to. I have to think about the fact that Jim- My thought dries up as fast as my throat, and I let out a tiny groan. Instantly, there's a knock at the bathroom door, making me jump. Shit. He heard me.

"Chief, you okay?"

"Ah, yeah."

"You sure?"

"Fine. I'll be out in a minute."

"Blair..."

"In a minute!" I say curtly before I groan at my harsh tone.

"Okay," Jim says quietly.

I groan again. Now I've snapped at him and made him feel bad. Way to go, Blair. The man had intimate knowledge of you just hours ago, and already you're running scared. Sighing, I rub myself briskly with a towel, then brush my teeth, forcing myself back to the really bad thought, which is the main reason I was being a grouch, and this one is a big one. You ready? Here goes.

Jim doesn't trust me. There, I've said it. Well, thought it anyway. I can't be with somebody who doesn't trust me. And I've just given something important to the man I love, somebody who doesn't trust me, and with whom I can't pledge undying love. I am so fucked. And it's just a bit too late, isn't it? I snicker at my own double entendre and after giving myself a few moments to wallow in abject misery, I force myself to don my robe hanging on the back of the door and exit the bathroom.

"Shower's all yours, Jim!" I call out, forcing myself to sound pleasant. I glance over at my- What is Jim now? My lover? Oh, God. Swallowing noisily brings Jim's head up and his eyes narrow. He crosses from the kitchen counter over to me and gives me another (another!) killer smile. Holy hell, but he's happy. If he's happy, then I'm happy. Manning up, I push my trepidation, my fears, my doubts, away and force a smile out.

"'Morning."

"Good morning," he says softly, leaning down slightly to brush a kiss across my lips. He's happy to see me! He's not pissed. And he remembers everything. Wow.

I huff out the breath I've been holding, making him smile again. Damn him, he knows I'm nervous as hell.

Then he does it again. Again! He kisses me tenderly. Man, this Jim is a dream.

First he kisses my lips before moving over my face. Light, inviting, sweet kisses. His hands cup my face and still those lips... They're going to kill me yet. My brain starts its usual meltdown. Well, usual since last night it seems, and in mere minutes, we're entangled on the sofa. How did we get to the sofa? Why don't I remember walking to it? But before I can contemplate this fact any further, Jim's mouth moves to my chest. He does something so fucking sexy that I almost come. He takes his teeth and yanks on the tie of the robe before pulling it open with his mouth for easy access. He wants my body. Little ole me!

"God, Chief, you're beautiful," he whispers.

Before I can even think (again!) to protest the rather astonishing fact that he thinks I'm beautiful, his mouth latches onto a nipple -- the one with the ring, mind you -- and I arch into the heat and let out a small sound. Must be what he wants to hear because he sucks even harder and then he takes his teeth (again!) and tugs. That's when I lose it. I'm begging again. I hear myself beg for more. More of anything! I'm hard and aching and dripping and loved.

He does it again, the prick. He smiles at me. I know it's all over but the coming. He smiles and those lips, those evil, dangerous, sexy lips, trail down my body, licking tiny spots of dampness on my tummy, into my belly button, through my pubic hair, and make a beeline to my hard-on. When those lips wrap themselves around me, I'm a goner. I'm thrusting, and begging, and whimpering, and all too soon, coming like a teenager on a first date, who's never had oral sex before.

Then I lay limp and sated, legs spread with a satisfied Sentinel sitting between them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grinning at me with a look of triumph on his handsome face.

"Liked that, huh?" he asks unnecessarily.

Through glazed eyes, I nod stupidly and grin just as foolishly. "Yeah."

"Good."

I blink slowly and I look again at Jim's face. He seems so pleased with himself that I'm pleased along with him.

"God, Chief. I want to make love to you so badly!" He strokes a hand down his hard shaft, licking his lips. "But..."

"But...?" I ask.

"I don't want to wear out my welcome. Besides..." Jim blushes, making me very curious as to the reason why.

"Besides..." I encourage gently. He shrugs. I know what he's thinking. That he just had me last night and I need a chance to rest a bit before he takes me again. After all, it was rather intense for a first timer like me. But he doesn't know I'm a first timer, and he's still concerned. Damn it to hell, Jim Ellison is a considerate lover. Very considerate. And that consideration is aimed at little old me. Still, I can't help myself. I need to know, so I ask, "What do you want? Tell me." I'd give this man anything for that smile. For those lips on my body. For those hands on my skin.

Jim looks away before he clears his throat. Touching himself through the cotton boxers, he whispers, "Watch me?" His voice is tinged with anxiousness. He's afraid of something. My rejection? My repulsion? Maybe nobody's ever given him what he's asked for before. Hell, maybe he's never asked! I'm his first. The thought makes me smile.

"Oh, man. Oh, yeah." When he gives me a shy, grateful smile, I grin. "You're so damned sexy," I say softly. "Do it."

Jim looks into my eyes and moves his hand under the waistband of his shorts. He draws himself out and strokes. I watch his face for a few moments, enjoying the look of rapture that crosses his strong features. I switch my gaze down to his hand, taking note of the technique he likes, before I return to his face. His eyes are locked onto mine and when I smile and provocatively lick my lips, his mouth falls open and he silently comes over his hand. I awkwardly scramble to my knees and move closer, latching my lips onto his. I touch his flagging erection, coating my hand with his scent. It's warm and sticky and that's when I realize that I'm not embarrassed any more.

\-------------------------------

"Sandburg, Ellison, my office, please."

One look at Simon and I see the seriousness reflected there, and his quiet tone makes me a little anxious. This can't be good news. I wonder what's up but I don't ask any questions (for a change) as I follow Jim. When we enter Simon's office, Jim goes to stand at the window, arms behind his back at parade rest. I meet his eyes and he gives me a quick wink. I blush, then look at Simon who, thankfully, has his back turned while he pours coffee. He'd kill me if he saw Jim flirting with me.

"Blair?" he asks, holding up the pot. I nod. "Jim?" Jim nods also and we wait in silence until Simon performs the ritual coffee pouring. While he does so, I think about the dozens, maybe hundreds of times I've seen Simon share his coffee with us and I've yet to give him a few bucks for it. I'm making a mental note to buy him a bag of the good stuff when he clears his throat, bringing my wandering thoughts back to the job at hand.

"Have either of you seen this morning's paper?" When Jim and I both shake our heads, he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes before he says, "Didn't think so." I wonder what he means by that. Puzzled, before I can ask, he clears his throat. "I have some unsettling news." Simon fidgets, which makes me instantly wary. Simon does not fidget. I chance a glance at Jim, who has straightened his stance a bit, curious now to what Simon has to tell us. He must sense the sudden rise of tension in the air because he's apprehensive also; I can tell by the way he holds his lips. Jim gives me an encouraging nod before he sets his cup on the edge of the desk and turns his full attention to the captain. "I'm pulling your access to the department, Blair," he says sympathetically, "and as of today, you're suspended from the academy." He lets out a sad sigh and shakes his head.

I'm speechless, shocked and oh so fucked. I hear Jim's voice from far away calling to me, but I have tunnel vision, because my eyes are locked on Simon's mouth as he speaks. I know he's telling me something important, but my brain doesn't function. I don't hear the next words, or if I do hear them, they don't register. What have I done? I thought the mess with my dissertation had been settled when my lawyer obtained letters of apology from both Sid Graham and Rainier University for their treatment of me. I'm not a fraud. I'm not. I am not a fraud. What have I done?

"Blair... Chief!" Jim's hands are warm and touching my shoulders. I finally take a breath and lean back in the chair. I realize Jim's standing behind me because his fingers lightly massage my shoulders while my head rests against his stomach. I lean into the comforting touch of my lover. But this is not the place for a lover's touch. And besides, I'm sure I'll be out on my ass in about ten seconds anyway. I've apparently fucked up again. I know what Jim will do. He'll pack my stuff (for the last time) and show me the door. God knows what I've done now, but this does not sound good. "Sandburg!" Jim's concerned voice finally registers. I immediately sit up, pulling away from his hands.

"What-?" I clear my throat when it closes and my voice threatens to break. After a long moment, I try again. "What did I do?" I manage to blurt out.

With a sad sigh, Simon says, "Jim's big case? The Austin trial? This morning, word's come down that the judge is declaring a mistrial. Somebody's leaked to the press that there's trouble with the case."

Jim immediately bristles. "No way, Simon! I worked for six months on that case! Blair did also. I went undercover for two weeks. That asshole is guilty and my case is air-tight."

Simon holds up a hand. "I thought so too, Jim, bu-"

"But what?" Jim growls. "I've already testified! The jury-"

"That's the problem, Jim," Simon tells him. "The jury. There's evidence of jury tampering. Somebody tried to bribe a juror. There's direct evidence that-" Simon fidgets again and continues to talk but I don't hear much of anything after "somebody". Somebody? my brain asks. Who somebody? Oh, God... Simon is looking at me. He's talking and looking at me. Me? Tamper with a jury? Me? I start to rise. Why me? Why did I have such happiness with Jim dangled in front of my nose only to have it ripped away? Why aren't I entitled to having Jim as my very own for more than twenty-four hours? Why? And what about my reputation? I earned my place in this department. I deserve it.

Jim's hand on my shoulder holds me in place. His touch is firm and forces me to remain where I am. I don't know what else to do so I do nothing but sit and wait. Jim, however, has something to say because his fingers are digging into my shoulder with such intensity that the pressure helps me focus. I can feel the bruises rising, but I don't even react because I'm so stunned. Jim's case is dead, and so am I.

Jim's voice is low and deadly when he asks, "What evidence?"

"One of the jurors went to the judge and told her about the incident. I talked directly to the DA and he says that the juror, a man, described the person who approached him in the men's bathroom outside the third floor courtroom during the lunch break on Tuesday. The affidavit states that the man offered the juror ten thousand dollars if he would make sure that the verdict came down in favor of the State. The man agreed and that night, the money, in cash, was delivered by a courier to the juror's home."

"What else?" Jim demands. I can hear the fury in his voice, and it's directed at me, I'm sure. I can hardly breathe.

"He identified Blair. Positively."

"Where did the money come from?"

Simon sighed again. "They obtained a warrant, Jim. There was a ten thousand dollar withdrawal from Blair's savings account on the day that the juror accepted the delivery."

I know I should say something, but I can't seem to force myself to respond. Ten thousand dollars? From my savings account? Where did the money come from? I haven't had ten thousand dollars in one lump since I was awarded a grant to go to the Fiji Islands, but that was almost seven years ago! I have a savings account all right, with twenty-eight dollars in it. I think I must have made a sound because Jim's hand moves. He flexes his fingers on my shoulder hard enough to grab my attention. I drag my thoughts back to the conversation.

"... surveillance tapes will prove-" Jim is saying.

Finally, I speak. "No, they won't prove anything." I snort at my own stupidity. "On the other hand, they will prove something. That I was at the courthouse the day before yesterday. You remember, Jim?" I ask, glancing upward. "I went down to drop some papers off to Brown who was sitting in on the Lawson robbery trial. Remember? You asked me to stop on my way home because you didn't have time." At Jim's nod, I explain, "I did go to the third floor. and I did go into the men's room. There was a guy in there but I didn't talk to him! I didn't even know who he was!"

I glance nervously from Jim to Simon and back to Jim. I hear Simon rise so I turn to look into his face. I try to read his expression. He's definitely angry. Is it at me? Does he believe I would do this?

"I didn't... I swear. I'll take a lie detector test. I'll do anything I have to!" I feel myself shaking.

Simon finally gives me a sympathetic glance. "I'll have to ask you to make yourself available for the investigation, Blair. No unscheduled trips out of town. Go home and stay put."

I nod but apparently Jim takes great exception to Simon's tone. "Now wait just a second, Simon," he says firmly. "There is no way Blair tampered with anything! I've known him for over three years and although he's sometimes overly enthusiastic about making sure our cases are air-tight, he'd never do anything like that!" Jim's fist crashes down on the desk, making me jump.

"The evidence says otherwise."

"He didn't do it!"

Simon jumps to his feet. "Now you listen here," he says firmly, pointing a finger at Jim. "We've been down this road before. Police work isn't personal and you know it. This investigation will be conducted properly."

Jim's jaw muscle jumps and he says through clenched teeth, "Blair's innocent."

I cock my head to the side and gaze up into Jim's face. I'm in such shock over being accused of something I didn't do that it takes me a moment to realize that Jim not only believes that I didn't do this, but that he's defending me to Simon. He's defending me! With Alex... Well, with Alex, Jim believed I'd betrayed him so that I could work with another Sentinel. And when my mother sent my thesis to that asshole of a publisher, Jim believed that I'd betrayed him yet again, this time for fame and fortune. Now, things are different. As awful as I feel, I'm elated beyond words. Speechless again, apparently. Jim believes in me. In spite of everything, Jim trusts me. Some day this has turned out to be.

I drop my head, embarrassed when I feel my eyes start to fill. Jim trusts me. In spite of the rocky parts of our relationship in the past, things are different now. Jim not only doesn't believe that I'd betray his trust in me by hurting his case, but he's going ballistic on Simon for even suggesting that any of it is true. Jim believes that I wouldn't do such a thing. "Jim trusts me," I whisper; then my eyes grow wide when I realize I've spoken out loud, and I clamp a hand over my mouth.

Simon stares at me while Jim hunkers down beside my chair. He waits patiently until I look into his eyes and he puts a hand on my knee. "No question," he says softly. "And never doubt that I do."

I nod numbly and I feel my eyes start to fill again. I have got to get a grip. Jim reaches up and ruffles my hair. "You and me, Chief," he says with a small smile, his simple words asking me do so much: to seal our commitment, our partnership, and our lives to each other. "Okay?" he asks with barely a touch of hesitation, but I can tell. I can sense his trepidation. Nobody but me would see it, but then, nobody but me loves Jim like crazy.

I know he'd hate a big gushing scene, especially in front of his superior officer so I say something simple that will work. Jim understands. I know he does. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks." I let my eyes reflect what I feel for him, and from the look on his face, I know he sees it.

Jim accepts my heartfelt pledge, shrugs at me in typical Jim fashion, gives me ghost of a smile, and rises. He unclips his badge and unholsters his weapon. Gently, without a sound, he lays them on the desk. He's not angry or freaked, but very calm and collected when he says softly, "Blair and I are a team, Simon." Then he turns and walks to the door, calling, "Come on, Chief."

I pull myself together, stand and follow my partner.

\-----------------------------------

The ride home is quiet, but I can tell Jim's not angry, only contemplative. I'm grateful. I know I should say something but every time I start to, my throat closes up and my eyes start to prickle. I'm so pissed at myself for being emotional that I can't say a thing. Jim must sense my turmoil because several times he reaches over and pats my shoulder or knee. I keep my eyes straight ahead, but once, I do catch his hand with mine and he squeezes my fingers reassuringly. Even that makes me emotional.

When we walk through the front door, Jim immediately gathers me close. His lips trail across my forehead and stop at my temple, where he presses them against my skin.

"It will be all right," he whispers between kisses.

"Jim -"

His hand cups my chin and tips my head. "Shhh," he says before sealing our mouths together. His tongue slips in and I whimper, clutching his jacket. Releasing me, he takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I follow willingly. I need this.

"Make me forget," I whisper. And so he does.

With warm hands and warm lips and warm heart, Jim makes love with me. He loves me thoroughly and completely. I'm so overwhelmed yet again that I can barely string two words together. I do know that I pledge my undying love, now and forever, while Jim takes me, his body and mine link as one. Our hearts connect. He chuckles while I plead for more. He laughs when I come with his name on my lips and he kisses me senseless after he fills me with his seed. I fall asleep and don't wake for six hours.

When I open my eyes, I notice that it's dark outside, but inside, the loft is filled with light. That light is Jim Ellison. He's sitting on his side of the bed . His side! How cool is that? Looking quite happy and quite sexy, I might add, dressed in a pair of red silk boxers and a grey tank top. He flashes me a killer smile and rubs my leg through the sheet.

"Hey," I whisper.

"Hey, yourself. Hungry?"

I consider for a moment before I shrug.

"You have to eat," he says firmly. "I'll cook."

"Nah. It's too late."

"So? I'm starving, and I waited for you so you could eat with me." Again, another smile, warm and happy and oh, so inviting. One to die for, so what could I do?

"Okay. I'll eat."

"Great! Scrambled eggs?" Jim smiles and climbs from the bed, heading to the stairs.

"Yeah. Okay. Coffee?"

"Hot and fresh." He flashes me yet another smile. He must have a million of them, and they're all for me. What did I do to deserve such a lover?

For some reason, my brain isn't working because I say out loud, "You're too good to me." I inwardly cringe, knowing that it will bring out the guilty part of Jim that he hates.

Jim pauses at the top of the steps for a moment before he crosses back over to the bed. He sits beside me, encourages me to sit up, and takes my hand. I try to look away but he's having none of it.

"Sorry," I say, "That wasn't --"

"Listen," he interrupts. "I know I haven't always been the nicest guy around." When I start to protest, he silences me with a look. So I shut up. "I'm a lousy roommate, too. I yelled at you for making messes, and I..." He grimaces before he continues. "Fuck it. At least I can be honest. It wasn't the messes or the loud music, it was what I did to you. I didn't trust you." His voice drops even lower when he adds, "Past tense, Chief. I hope you get that. It was wrong to think you'd betray me with Alex. It was even worse when I thought you sold me out for money. I'm not good with saying how I feel a lot of the time-" When I snort at this astute observation, Jim glares at me for a moment before he reaches up to trace my lips with a single finger. "Okay, point taken. I do know what to say. I just don't like saying it; spilling my guts. It makes me feel weak." Jim runs a hand over his hair and down his face. "My lousy upbringing, I guess, but now I'm a grown man. I can decide for myself, so let me say this in case I'm ever an asshole again where our relationship is concerned."

I sit very still, letting Jim have his say. He hasn't told me this much about how he feels since I've known him, so I'm more than shocked, but also I'm more than tickled. I love him with all my heart, and I need this. I need to hear the words, even if it's only this one time. I smile and nod encouragingly.

"I- I love you deeply and passionately, and I always will. I want us to be partners. And I don't mean down at the station. Will you? Will you have me? Can you do that? Pledge yourself to me?"

"Are you asking me...?" I clear my throat before I start again. "Are you asking me to commit to you? Forever?"

"Yeah." He looks right into my eyes. Behind the love, I can see a hint of trepidation. He's still Jim Ellison, tough cop and ex-soldier, and product of William's tender, loving care. He's still a little boy inside, still afraid of rejection. Aren't we all?

Still, I need something more. It might not be fair, but while I'm actually thinking straight, have to ask. "What about at work? Us? I mean, in public and all?"

Jim shrugs. "You know I don't care much what other people think of me. Now you," he says lovingly while running a short strand of hair between his fingers, "I'd kill anybody who was cruel to you. I'd be happy with our friends knowing about us. I want them to know that you're mine. That you're off the market for good."

"Jim, man..." I wrap a hand around his wrist. Turning his hand over, I place a kiss in the middle of his palm before I look up. "Why now?" I ask simply.

"I'm ready. Finally," he adds with an apologetic smile.

I cock an eyebrow. Jim is finally ready. Well, it's about damned time. I grin. "Then, yes. I take you for my partner, in everything. But please, promise me you won't kill anybody for me!"

He laughs. "Me, too. Partners. I'm yours," he says with a shrug. "Will that work?"

I laugh also and throw my arms around his neck. "Yeah, that will work. Thank you." I rest my head against his shoulder. Looking down, I clasp his hand in mind. "But..."

"But..." he prompts, kissing the top of my head. It is such a loving gesture that it makes me tear up yet again.

"But I'm going to jail." There, I've said it. I'm not only a declared fraud, but I'm an alleged felon.

"No!" Jim pushes me away and rises, pulling me with him, his hands clamped on my upper arms. "You're not a fraud. and you're not a felon either. There is no way you tampered with that jury, and I'll prove it or die trying."

He shakes me a little before his hands release their firm hold. Then he yanks me into his arms and hugs me tightly. "Jim..." I mutter, the word muffled against his chest.

"Enough!" he says harshly. "You're innocent and we'll prove it!"

I slowly nod. "Okay. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I want to find out who fucked up the case anyway. We worked hard on the damned thing. No way I'm letting this happen."

Jim's tone is so adamant, so deadly, that I believe that he'll do whatever it takes, within the law, of course. "But you shouldn't have given Simon your shield. Not for me."

"If not for you, then who for? You're the person I love. If I can catch a bullet for a stranger, I sure as hell can catch one for you. Giving up my shield and weapon was a heck of a lot easier," he says with a chuckle.

I pull away and glance up. He looks down and rubs my cheek with the back of his knuckles, then he smiles. I melt into his look while he leans down and kisses me tenderly. Again, those lips make me forget everything. When Jim finally releases me, I sway slightly like I'm drunk. I am. I'm drunk on Sentinel kisses and Ellison love. Dazedly, I close my eyes and tip up my face. I hear a deep chuckle before I'm cradled against the rock-hard warm chest. My head is tipped back and those lips do their work yet again. They touch mine before moving to my eyelids. Returning to my mouth, I'm treated to another deeply searing kiss. His mouth blazes a path to my nose, my chin, and my temple before returning after each exploration to my mouth. Punchy from Jim's kisses, my mouth falls open. That tongue, deadly and active, explores every crevasse, making me woozy with pleasure. I feel my knees shake, and my body respond. Damn those Sentinel lips. If I were still writing about Sentinels, I muse briefly, I'd write about Sentinel lips controlling the Guide's body. The thought is brief, though, because my mind can barely connect two thoughts together when Jim's tongue is down my throat.

"Chief..." Jim whispers, turning me toward the bed.

When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I fall backward. Jim drops to the floor and spreads my legs, scooting close. Before I have a chance to catch my breath, he takes me into his mouth. Deeply and wetly. His fingers lightly massage my balls while his throat massages my erection. Just how does he know that touching my balls right there will make me come? Oh, right, he's a Sentinel.

"Jim," I whisper, arching into the heat, coming almost gently. "Aargh! Jimjimjim."

"Hmmmm?" he asks, his mouth full of my pulsing cock. The vibrations zing into my body, making me shoot one last stream. With a sloppy noise, he releases me.

I force my heavy eyes open and see him standing over me with a wicked grin on his face. His arms are crossed and he looks exceedingly proud of himself. He stares down at me with something in his eyes, something primal. "Mine."

I shiver at the tone. "God, yes."

He grins, another Sentinel smile that's to die for. Sprawled over the edge of the bed, arms flung out, I don't bother to move. I close my eyes and briefly think about those eggs. Before I can ask about the food, I fall asleep, naked and sated, and not the least bit embarrassed about being laid out like a Thanksgiving feast.

\---------------------------------------

A loud pounding on the door wakes me. I roll over and blink. Stretching, I feel wonderful! The pounding, however, continues unabated and I sit up, wondering who's knocking at -- ten thirty? Oh, shit. I practically leap from the bed. It's ten thirty in the morning and I'm not at work. Then it hits me. Yesterday. My stomach drops and I start to sweat.

"I got it, Chief. Relax," Jim calls up, but I don't answer.

"Damn," I mutter, remembering. I sink back onto the bed and curl up. I'm an alleged felon. I've been kicked out of the academy and suspended from my non-paying observer's job. Guess they don't even want free help, not when it comes from a fraud. Even worse, Jim's quit because of me. I drag my mind back to listen to what's happening below me.

"Simon," I hear Jim say. That makes me sit up straight and hold my breath.

Oh good God. I'm in Jim's bed. Simon will die if he finds out, so I stay still and silent, hoping he'll tell Jim whatever he needs to tell him and leave.

"Coffee?" I hear Jim offer. No, Jim, no coffee!

"Sure," Simon responds.

"Sit," Jim says. No sitting! No coffee!

I hear the sofa creak as Simon sits. I track Jim's movements as he opens the cupboard and fish out a cup. He pours Simon's coffee before he fills another cup for himself. He walks across the room to one of the sofas and a spring creaks softly when he sits.

"Thanks," Simon says.

"What's going on?"

"Good news. Where's the kid? He should be in on this."

I don't know what Jim's thinking since I can't see his face, of course, but I don't move. I hope he's not too freaked about Simon being here while I'm in his bed. Jim, man, just get him to leave!

"Blair! Simon's here! Come on down. He has news," Jim calls out. I cringe.

Clearing my throat, I call, "Ah... Okay. Be down-," I look around wildly, "in a sec." Where are my clothes? Knowing Jim, he's put them into the hamper already. And that means I don't have any of my own up here. Rats. I snag one of Jim's t-shirts and yank it over my head. It falls to my knees. Hurriedly looking for pants, I yank on a pair of his sweats and roll the waistband over a couple of times to keep from taking a header down the stairs on the long legs. Modestly covered, I take in a deep breath before huffing it out. Gathering my courage, I try to appear casual as I saunter down the stairs.

"Hey, Simon," I say when I can see Simon's eyes tracking me. He nods a greeting at me. I stop at the bottom, unsure what to do next, but Jim... Thank God, Jim understands.

"Coffee, Sandburg?" he asks casually.

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks." I walk over toward the sofa group. Jim makes a detour to me on his way to the kitchen for my coffee. He stops me with a hand on my shoulder and leans down and- Oh, fuck. He lightly kisses me.

"Morning," he says softly, giving me an encouraging smile. "It will be okay," he adds for my ears alone.

I glance nervously into his face. He's happy. He's okay with me obviously coming from his bed and that Simon will also obviously know everything. What can I do but smile in return? He ruffles my hair. I go over and sit on the sofa opposite where Simon is sitting while Jim fetches me coffee.

Simon looks at me before peering over his shoulder at Jim. He remains silent until Jim returns with my drink, which I take with a nod of thanks. Jim sits down beside me, leans back and snakes a long arm across the back of the sofa. His fingers touch the back of my neck.

"Jim, is there something you want to tell me?" Simon asks, his face unreadable.

"You said you had news about Blair. I think whatever else needs to be discussed can wait."

Nodding, Simon looks at each of us. Twice. "Right. You're in the clear, Sandburg."

"What?" I blurt out.

"What happened?" Jim asks.

"I took care of it," Simon says proudly.

"You did? Took care of it? You didn't rub anybody out on my account, did you?"

Simon sputters coffee down his coat front while Jim chokes on his drink. "No, Sandburg," Simon says with a disgusted look after wiping his hand on his mouth, "I didn't rub anybody out."

"Then why?"

Simon arches an eyebrow. "Because you're one of my own, Sandburg, and I stand by my own people."

Again, knowing I must sound like an idiot, I stammer out, "I-I am?"

Simon looks thoroughly exasperated. "Well, yes."

"I - I didn't know. I've always felt like the third wheel. You went to bat for me?" I'm in shock. Yeah, I know Simon is a good cop, but I thought he tolerated me because of Jim, because Jim needs me for his senses, and Simon needs him for his detective skills. I didn't know he cared. I hope I don't start with the emotional shit again!

Jim puts a hand on my shoulder. "This is great news. What happened?"

"I did some detective work, Detective," Simon growls at Jim. "I didn't like the way the whole thing went down." Jim starts to ask another question, but Simon raises his hand, stopping him. "You want to hear this or not? Some of us have work to do today. We don't have time to lounge around in bed until noon." He casts a glance in my direction, which makes me immediately blush. Then he chuckles and clamps an unlit cigar between his teeth.

"Light the damned thing," Jim orders.

"Really?" Simon looks startled. "In the sacred abode?"

Jim rolls his eyes. "You've apparently saved my partner's backside. I think that means you're allowed to smoke that thing here." He leans forward just a bit and adds, "This once."

Simon chuckles deeply and lights his stogy. Puffing away contentedly, he finally tells us, "I did a background check on the juror, who shall remain nameless for now. The judge asked me to keep a lid on it until he announces that he's declaring a mistrial this afternoon. What I found out was very interesting. Apparently, said juror was in deep with a loan shark for fifty grand. Gambling, I discovered-"

Jim's eyes widen. "Don't tell me. He wasn't!"

"No, not with Gregory Austin, the guy you nabbed, but with Austin's brother-in-law. The juror didn't disclose the information during jury selection and nobody knew about the connection in the DA's office. I don't imagine anybody knew over on the Austin defense side either, since Horvath and Lewis have been in this city for forty years and there's never been any sign of anything but professional behavior from them. I've known Alexander Lewis for a dozen years and he's a fine lawyer." Simon puffs out several very nice smoke rings, causing Jim to quickly find a substitute ashtray before any ashes fall onto his clean hardwood floor.

"Thanks," Simon says, tapping the cigar against the side of the disposable plastic bowl. "Anyway, I leaned on the judge, who leaned on Lewis and the juror. He had them in his chambers first thing this morning. The juror finally talked. Seems that Austin had one of his people make the arrangements. The juror's tab was to be wiped clean in exchange for his," Simon waves a hand, making cigar ash fly through the air, "making sure the jury returned a verdict of not guilty."

"Nice set up," Jim says, eying the cigar. I almost laugh at the pained expression on his face, but he manages to hide his distaste nicely. After all, Simon is a hero. My hero. I didn't realize that with Simon's latest information, I'd let out a happy sound until Jim quickly looks over at me to smile before he turns back to the captain. "Then what?"

"So Austin knew about you, of course, and that Blair was your partner. He must have had some way to know about Blair going to the court-" Simon's words dried up. He looks at Jim, who returns the look with sudden realization. "Oh, shit."

"Who, Simon? We need to find out."

"Jim, man. You lost me. Who what?" I look from one face to another before the thought hit home. "No. Not somebody from the bullpen. Please tell me that isn't what happened. Not one of our friends."

Jim nods curtly. "It would explain why they knew you were going to be at the courthouse. They had to know the when and where. It wasn't random chance, that's for sure. There was too much at stake to wait and see if somebody they could use would show up at the courthouse." Jim turns toward me. "Besides," he says softly, "there aren't too many people who know that we're close. It has to be somebody who knows, and who could set it up quickly. It makes sense that it's somebody we know. Somebody who's out to get me for some reason."

Simon nods. "Jim's right. And whoever it is, is a dead man. Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Or woman," I add hesitantly.

"What?" Jim and Simon say simultaneously.

"Or woman," I repeat. "It isn't somebody out to get Jim's case tossed out. It's because of me." I look away from Jim's questioning eyes. "She's hated me since I dumped her. She's been bugging me for months now. I never said anything about it. I told her I wasn't interested, but I know she didn't believe me." I let out a disgusted sound and cross my arms, holding myself tightly. "I didn't realize I was so transparent, but I guess I was." I look out the balcony windows when I finally admit, "I saw her watching me a few times. Guess I was letting my feelings show, after all."

"You weren't, Chief," Jim says reassuringly. "It's that women sometimes have this radar when it comes to guys they're after. And she probably saw us together. Not that we were obvious- Wait. Wait a damned second. She? You don't mean that stupid bitch, Samantha Korbin! From the lab?"

I nod. "Sorry."

Simon taps out the cigar and rises. "Not your fault, Sandburg. Nobody in my precinct does this and gets away with it. I'll get on it so fast, her head will spin."

Jim rises also, but I remain sitting, still too much in shock at everything that's happened in the past forty-eight hours to function properly. I've become Jim's lover; been accused of a felony; found out that a former girlfriend tried to have me framed; came out to my (hopefully!) future boss; and had my Blessed Protector come to my rescue instead of tossing me out on my skinny ass. I look up in time to see Jim squaring off right in Simon's face.

"Simon, she's mine," Jim says angrily.

Simon almost laughs. "Yeah, right. Look at you. You're ready to defend Sandburg's honor to the death, aren't you?" He glares into Jim's face. "For once, you're going to do as you're told." He pokes a finger into Jim's chest. "This is too personal and this is not your case. Got it?" he says, but it's not really a question; it's an order. When Jim doesn't respond, he rises to his full height and looks down into Jim's furious eyes and makes himself plainly understood. "That is a direct order, Ellison."

Jim gives me a quick glance before he reins himself in. "Yes, sir," he agrees between clenched teeth.

Reassuringly, Simon adds, "I'll take care of it."

"I know, Simon. It's just..." Jim shrugs.

"How long?" Simon asks with a curt nod in my direction.

Again, that shrug. "Two days, give or take a few hours."

"Two days? Well, shit. That blows my hundred bucks." Simon chuckles, turning to walk toward the door.

Jim remains carved in stone but I finally have enough brain cells to make myself stand up and follow him. "A hundred bucks?" I ask. "You- you all were betting on us?"

"Of course," Simon answers with a laugh, looking at me like I don't have a clue, which, apparently, I don't. "I think Connor won." With a wave, and before Jim can gather himself together to say anything, Simon is gone.

"Well, fuck." Great, Blair. Such an intelligent statement, I say to myself.

Jim looks at me, then starts to laugh. Soon, he's laughing loudly and deeply, holding his sides. I can't help but join in with his infectious laughter. He grabs me around the waist and spins me around while we're laughing like fools. After a long minute of shared mirth, he shakes his head and clamps our mouths together. I clutch him like a drowning man, drinking in the taste of his mouth on mine. The kisses are deep and hot, and I revel in the feelings crashing through me. Once again, those lips are my undoing. My mind shuts down and my body quickly responds. When I think I'm going to burst into flames, Jim releases me, moving back a good three feet.

I stagger forward a step or two. He catches me and holds on until I'm stable. "Jim?" I whisper dazedly.

"What you do to me. I can't keep my hands off you. Is it some kind of Shaman curse? Have you cast a spell on my heart?" His face is bright and happy, and his words light and teasing. "Because whatever you've done, I like it."

I laugh, shrugging. "I never did tell you about the rest of Burton's research, did I?" I ask suggestively.

Jim shakes his head. "Why don't you tell me while we eat? I'm starving!"

Again, I laugh. "Me, too. Famished."

"No wonder! You didn't have a decent meal yesterday." Jim pulls a casserole from the fridge. "Made this while you were sleeping. Go and shower. We'll eat in thirty minutes, and then you can tell me about these Shamanic abilities to control Sentinels."

I shake my head in amused exasperation. "No way! I'm not revealing my secrets!" I head toward my old room, smiling at Jim's chuckle that follows me. Grabbing clean clothes, I stop on my way to the bathroom and look at Jim with as much love as I can possibly muster. "If I tell you what my secrets are, do you promise to make full use of them after we eat?"

Jim hits the microwave 'on' button and while he's pulling plates from the cupboard, he says, "For you. Anything."

I grin and lean on the door frame for a moment before I say, "It's your kisses, your trust, and more importantly, your smile." Jim's face lights up and he flashes me yet another gorgeous smile. "Oh, man. I'm in so much trouble now," I mutter. "I shouldn't have said a thing."

With Jim's warm laughter tickling my ears, I go to shower. And think about the rest of my life with Jim and how lucky I am to have such trust, such love, such kisses and of course, such wonderful Sentinel smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published about 2011.


End file.
